Hi guys, I'd just like to thank you all for your reviews, it's really helped to keep this story alive for me and try my best to keep up with my updating pace on this story. So anyway, here's yet another chapter, so enjoy!

"How dare you,"

Those were the first words that Olive could manage, her voice box now seemingly malfunctioning after hearing what the two children had said to her. Olive's heart meanwhile was both beating faster than a horse's speed limit in anger, yet was frozen in place with sudden fear and confusion. She just couldn't believe what she had heard, so instead Olive immediately rejected every word of it, all her anger from the past decade bursting to the surface with her words before she could really hold it back and control it.

Eggs seemed frightened; certainly the Box Trolls were now hiding in their boxes from her stare. Winifred looked only confused mostly, though there was a small might of fear in her since she had never really seen her nanny this emotional about something other than her safety. The last time she had been that upset, Winifred had run off for a few moments out of Olive's sight. What the child got in reply was an hour's worth of nagging to never do that again. But of course Winifred would do it again; she did it all the time.

"Do you think this is a joke Winifred, because this is so, so hurtful. More than I think you could ever understand," Olive's emotions often ran away from her whenever she allowed herself to feel, so the anger that she had soon evolved back into sadness and before she knew it she was close to tears. Though she would not let those tears fall to where it could be seen, where she could be seen as weak. That was the last thing she needed at that moment, since Olive was pretty sure she had enough on her plate as it was.

"But Miss Olive, he-"

"That's enough Winifred!"

Olive hadn't meant to shout, but all the same felt the woman felt as though she was somehow being attacked. But in reality the only thing that was attacking her was her own mind, one half wanting to reach out and believe, the other half, that over time had become distrustful and angry to the world she had been left in for the past decade, pushed away immediately at every thought that this could be true. Olive was far too bitter from ten years of loneliness to accept this possibility, so she immediately denied it.

The red haired child looked hurt at being so suddenly snapped at, and Olive did feel regret at having done so, but at the same time the woman was angry at the thought of the most tragic moment in her life was once again being apparently made a joke of. This was probably why Olive was not quite done talking herself, letting out maybe a few too many things that maybe Olive had been keeping cooped in her pained heart.

"Isn't it enough… that everyone else up there in that town, has to be so cruel? Cruel enough, that they make a festival day out of the worst moment in my life, you have to do this to?"

There was a sense of resentment that Olive had towards Winifred sometimes that the child would find so much enjoyment in Box Trolls and the festival, the child's avidness for such celebrations being the only reason that Olive was always forced to go. And that was something that always hurt Olive, but all the same the woman kept that to herself, not wanting Lord Portley-Rind or another of the higher ups in Cheesebridge to bother her with how she should not show her upset.

No, she could never be upset, because that was not 'proper' to a woman of Cheesebridge. Olive was only ever told to smile and bear through it, and because she wanted to not be left alone with nothing to depend on to keep her from the dangers of this town that hid during the day time; she would do as they said. Like the good domesticated pet she was forced to be around them, every action done according to them melting away what was the person she had been before.

But down here, Olive was not around the Lords and Ladies of Cheesebridge, She was not obligated to just bear it and pretend that everything was fine when she was falling apart, so the woman didn't bother. It felt liberating, freeing somehow to say what she wanted to say so badly. And really Olive knew that this release of feelings wasn't Winifred's fault at all, neither was it Eggs fault or even the Box Trolls fault, but unfortunately that were here and had to sit through this as she let out all these emotions like a well needed breath of fresh air.

"My brother is dead Winnie; he died just as my father did. I was given the remains to bury, and there are now tombstones with their names on them. They're dead." Tears couldn't be held back anymore, freeing themselves from the trap of her eyelids as the memory of being presented her father and infant brother's remains at seventeen, having to be the one to identify that it was them. Before that point she had liked to think that she was a grown up, but that she was still so young. That day, she realized that she was too young to see this part of the world.

Olive still felt that she was too young now, to know and still see that moment whenever she closed her eyes.

"But it wasn't the Box Trolls that did it," Winifred looked at her hands as she spoke, and Olive felt more regret at the thought that the child was now afraid to look her in the eye. The woman did not want the child to feel guilty about everything she had said, since Winifred had absolutely nothing to do with that. Wanting to comfort her, but knowing that hugging was never really something that the red haired child was okay with, (at least when it was Olive comforting her, she'd do anything for her father's attention), so Olive decided instead to kneel on her level, hand gentle under the cheek so Winifred would look her in the eye while Olive attempted a small smile.

Apparently what the woman said next was somewhat surprising to the Box Trolls and Eggs, who looked somewhat confused. But then again they would be considering that from their view, Olive's emotions seemed to change around a lot, since so far, which was really in only a few moments, she had gone from the emotions of anger, to sadness, then odd calm with tears still falling.

"I always knew deep inside that they didn't, I just knew I could never prove it. And even then, I don't know who did," She didn't really need to further defend herself on that note, it seemed pretty obvious that there was no way for her to be able to tell anyone that the Box Trolls were innocent, even if she had proof of the crime being done by someone else, no one would listen. The fanaticism and prejudice against the Box Trolls by this point had gone on too far and for too long, people of this town was going to need more than just the word of one woman to convince any of them.

"I am the Trubsh- I am your… brother," Eggs also couldn't look her in eye, but on this occasion, mostly because Olive was convinced that she didn't know the boy, she didn't attempt to comfort him and instead looked to the ground herself. Olive felt such a heavy weight on her at this moment, she just wished that it would cut away so she could escape from this situation, but at the same time Olive knew that she had to face this, to either prove him, or herself wrong.

"Prove it," Her voice was so small in that moment, but she was no longer looking at the ground, staring instead into Egg's eyes, as he had also looked up at the same moment. Her heart may be bitter to the idea, but that didn't mean her head still didn't see some logic in the possibility of what he was saying was true. After all, as much as she didn't like to think it, she could see some resemblance of her mother and father in this boy, almost as clearly as she once saw it in herself.

After almost whispering her statement, Olive wandered off a little away from the main group, enough for them to know that she wanted to be alone for a little while. Thankfully they granted this silent request, Winifred and Eggs wandering off elsewhere themselves to talk while Olive felt herself curl into a ball.

Olive felt a sudden hand touch at her shoulder after a while of being alone, and she must have turned a little too quickly as the Box Troll that was the one that had tried to get her attention ducked into hiding inside their box. The woman didn't really raise an eyebrow at their deer-in-the-headlights nature, having known what they were like since she was a teenager and remembering that even back then they would hide whenever she walked into the room too quickly.

The woman looked to the picture on this Box Troll, knowing that it was what their name would be, again having known their nature, and only raised an eyebrow when she saw what the picture that was on the Box Troll. A small smile fought its way across Olive's face at the thought that she had known this Box Troll back when she was a teenager, remembering how they had stolen the meatballs of the table whenever she was cooking for her family. How he had grown on her to the point that she allowed him to take a few meatballs without a comment.

"Hello Fish,"

Small yellow eyes looked back at her through the holes of the box, and she could see a small smile in reply in them. The Box Trolls head eventually poked out from his hiding place so Olive could see that for sure there was a smile of greeting across his face before he started speaking in the Box Troll language.

Olive wasn't completely proficient in the language of the Box Trolls, but was lucky enough that in the time that the Box Trolls visited her father's home, she had managed to pick up a few words from the repetition of them, and sometimes having her father tell her what they meant so that she learned. It had been ten years since then, so some words were lost over time because of her trying to forget those times and also the effects of just plain time passing and her no longer remembering particular things.

So from the very limited education on the language that Olive now had, she was at least able to salvage from Fish's statement that he was telling her that 'Eggs was telling the truth'. Thankfully the prior conversations filled in the many gaps of Box Troll words that she could not translate, so Olive was able to at least reply to his statement.

"I need more evidence than just words Fish. I'm sorry, but it's been too long, and too much has happened for me to just believe words, that my brother is standing right here. I need physical proof,"

The Box Troll now looked lost, thinking that there was nothing other than their word that they had to prove to Olive that Eggs was the brother she had mourned over for the past decade. At least, that was at first, until Fish remembered something that he knew for certain would be able to show what they were saying was true. Without bothering to say another word, the Box Troll suddenly wandered off through the almost cave like environment of their home, Olive watching him for a few moments with a raised eyebrow before falling back into her own thoughts.

Of course Olive had always known inside that the Box Trolls weren't the ones that took her family and old life from her, but what also made her bitter to the world was the thought that she didn't know who might have actually done it. Well, she didn't know for certain, but with every passing year as she felt the same pair of eyes watch her as she matured and grew into a young woman, Olive started to get a very good idea of a certain someone who might have had something to do with it.

But of course now she had practically heard it from the horse's mouth.

Mr. Snatcher's comment earlier that day, on how he had 'stepped over Trubshaws in the past' was starting to haunt her the more she thought about it on her own. She had always had somewhat of a clue that he had something to do with it, what with the memories she had of him constantly harassing her family and threatening her father, and this comment seemed to finally solidify this idea she had concretely. Of course that didn't stop the thought that he had been there, right in the public eye all this time and watching her for all these years, and she hadn't really known it.

It felt at that moment as if he had been silently congratulating himself in watching her self-destruct over something he did to her family, and she didn't even know it. That he had managed to wear the sheep's clothing despite of what she remembered of him as a teenager. It made her feel sad, sick, miserable in that she had all that time to figure it out and failed to do so. But what it also made her feel, was angry. Angry in that even if she had figured it out, that no one would have believed her anyway, just as she had stated before in if she had ever tried to defend the Box Trolls.

No one would have believed her, and he would continue to be there, watching her from a distance.

Her head felt dizzy at so many emotions, so many heart stopping sudden realizations and blooming hopes in her chest building on top of each other. The issue that Eggs could be her brother was conflicting to her enough in how much she wanted to believe it, but at the same time would also have to face that she had missed ten years of his life, nearly all of his childhood gone because of something she couldn't control as she never saw it coming.

What happened that night? It seemed at that moment like it was always going to be a mystery to Olive, something that she would never really know for certain. At least, that was what the young woman thought until she felt the presence of someone standing in front of her, and despite herself and all her fears, looked up to face them.

The first thing she had seen was what was in this person's hands. What this person was holding, was the evidence that they had to prove their claims to Olive as true. But that wasn't even close to being on her mind at that moment, as instead it seemed all her fears and worries about the present faded to the back of her mind as she looked upon this evidence, her thoughts instead being taken back a decade before.

What they were holding, was a small pile of clothes. Small enough for a baby to wear.

This was her baby brother's clothes. Olive knew this, because she was the one who made them.

Her hands were shaking as they took the small green sweater and brown patched pants, holding them closer to her eye level as she looked over every stitch, feeling the sewing pattern she had made all those years ago, feeling her memories replay in her mind like old records she had long forgot and tried to ignore due to the pain it would regularly bring.

Olive remembered that her brother was starting to really outgrow his baby clothes, the small bundle that he had been in the beginning quickly becoming a tiny terror of a more developed baby. The then fifteen year old watched the baby as he attempted to crawl around in his play pen, his tiny hands grasping at the far bigger soft toys that his sister managed to cobble together out of the left over fabric of the seamstresses' that she worked at. He was too small to really hold them, and so instead, for some reason, took to throwing the toys as far across the pen as far as his small arms could manage.

As she watched her brother play, her hands were gently and slowly sowing heavy green material into a sweater, her expertise of sowing at that time not holding a candle to what they would be later on. Nevertheless as she did this action, Olive was thinking to herself all the while on how the winter was coming very soon and that the small infant was going to need more woolly jumpers and blankets to fight off the cold than what he had now. Her own protection against the winter didn't enter her mind all that much, considering herself shielded well enough from the cold by her trench coat for whenever she went outside.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her father coming home, this action of his always being followed by him loudly proclaiming his entrance through the front door and singing somewhat off-key one of his many favorite songs, whether they be ones of the opera or a barber shop quartet. The baby giggled and squealed excitedly form his playpen as his father picked him up, spun him around before carefully handing the baby to the arms of his big sister, where Olive would then receive a tentative and caring kiss on her forehead from her father.

It felt good, Olive remembered, to see her father smiling again after her mother's passing, the teenager thinking before that time, on how he had once been rather silent and unavailable to any attempt of discussion, and how it had made Olive feel a little more trapped in her ways than usual to not have him around as a conversational partner. But at this time it seemed as though he was picking himself back up to the man he had been before, though Olive could still see some sadness in his eyes when he guessed that she wasn't looking.

But Olive threw that thought to the back of her mind because at that moment, he was happy, they were all happy. Dinner was made and served, with the usual fascinating conversation flowing between them before finally it got late enough that even the teenager was tired out from the day's efforts. The baby and his big sister were tucked into bed that night, however even as she was sitting in the bed, ready to sleep, she was still working on the small green jumper for her baby brother.

"It's time for bed now Olive," Herbert Trubshaw hummed softly to his eldest child as she eventually yielded to his wish for her to finally rest and laid down to sleep, the father gently taking her work from her hands an laying it carefully on the bedside table nearby, but of course not before he took a quick look over the definitely above amateur stitch work that the fifteen year old was capable of at the time, his expression beaming with pride as he gently tucked her in (despite the teenager's argument that she was too old to be tucked in, since he knew that deep down she enjoyed these moments she got to have with him).

"Truly wonderful work Olive, you're really learning the tools of your trade," Most other people of the town, that for some reason felt their opinion important on her families lives, had tried to remark to her father in the past on how encouraging her career as a seamstress was bound to have her forever unmarried, and at the time Olive was sad to state that she was worried he's agree with them and change his mind. But of course, he never did and instead continued to be proud of her work no matter what he heard whispered about him behind his back.

But that was not what was causing the fifteen year old at the time to sigh in almost worry at his praise. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the encouragement, quite the contrary, it was more that she didn't believe that for herself.

See, the family line of Trubshaw had always had somewhat of a proud reputation of being thinkers and problem solvers, from professors to inventors there was always a story to tell, so it made for quiet the interesting history. Olive was worried, because of her chosen career that she was passionate about, in what it was and the fact that she didn't think herself all that good at it. This was a rather sore topic that she didn't bring up with her father all that often, in fact she did her best mostly to guide away from it. However, she was never very good at keeping her emotions to herself as he managed to see what it was that was making her sigh so sullenly.

"Olive, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone but you. Hats, boxes, sowing needles, they don't mean anything if you think they can change who you are. You make you," He said this a lot, practically whenever Olive felt down in that she couldn't do something right for someone else's benefit. It always made the teenager feel better inside, but only for a little while since for whatever reason, she never could really fully believe in that. Possibly because despite of that advice, Olive would always continue to try and make others happy before herself.

"Goodnight sweetheart," With that last word, her father quietly walked out of the room, pausing only to switch off the light. Olive laid awake in the dark for a moment, before turning over to look at her baby brother sleeping in the cot just by her bed. Her thoughts had wondered back to him, but this time weren't about how he might be cold in the winter if she didn't make more jumpers, instead they looked a bit more forwards into the future that she wondered and worried that he might have.

She worried that the people that looked down on her now, that chastised her every move and tried more than once to educate her father on how to raise her so she was a good wife someday, would turn on him in much the same way. Olive fretted what he might face, and at what age it would start for him, since the chastising began as mostly whispers for her when she just began to reach ten years old. Would he be older when it would be his turn, or younger?

What were they going to expect from him? What were they going to do when they figured that he wasn't meeting those expectations? Was it going to be anything like the heated glares and nasty words Olive received, that more often than not were delivered to her face with the shield of a 'well-meaning' smile? And more importantly, how was he going to react to all that, how strong would he be in the face of it?

Olive knew that if it wasn't for her father and his strength, she would not be able to fight back against them and would instead bow to their very expectation and whim. It was her father's presence that made her stronger, and also made her certain that if her brother ever faltered under the gaze of society's anticipations, that both her, and her father would be there for him for every step that he needed them.

They could tear her down all they liked, just as long as it left her brother always standing tall in the face of adversity, ready to fight back and say who it was he wanted to be. All this certainty, Olive reflected to herself, and he was barely even a year old. The then teenager turned in her bed so she was now facing the bedside table, where the nearly finished green sweater was sitting, just waiting to be finished.

With a new sense of enthusiasm that Olive wasn't quite sure from where it had come from, she sat up in her bed and carefully collected the half done sweater, feeling the familiar cold of the meal sewing needles in her nimble and precise fingers as the thread went in, and out. The pattern continued on as for a time there was nothing else in Olive's world except the contents in her hands, and the small snores of the baby sleeping nearby.

The sweater was done by the morning, and Olive for a time felt better because of it.

"Oh my god," Other than that exclamation, Olive's voice was now lying dead in her throat, the surprise and shock as facts finally clicked into her mind having killed it away to silence. Her hands were shaking as her world became nothing more for those few moments than the contents that were about to fall through her fingers. But of course she didn't allow it to, instead holding onto even tighter.

It seemed as though she had let more than enough slip through her fingers for the past decade.

Her gaze remained on the sweater for so long that when Olive managed to find the strength to look up who it was that had handed her these long forgotten items, her neck cracked in a way that made it feel ancient, as if she had been carrying quite the mighty weight on her shoulders, which wasn't exactly untrue. Now, when she looked up, instead of feeling pain, Olive felt some of that weight fall away and collapse into the dust it had always been.

When she looked up, she met Egg's gaze as he stared back at her.

"Winnie says… that you're my sister," Olive seemed to finally really see Eggs as he was talking, and was now so confused as to how she could ever try to deny that he was her brother. He looked so much like her father, at least like her father did when he was Egg's age in the photos she had managed to save. A hand fell away to one of her secret pockets, where instead of the others which held emergency sewing supplies, had a photo instead.

Olive pulled out the photo, looking down at it for a moment, feeling the long held back nostalgia flood through her veins before remembering that Eggs was looking to, and carefully handed it to him to hold. The slight touch of their fingers meeting as she passed the photograph making her heart nearly break. The woman wanted nothing more than to just hug him close to her, for him to somehow feel the emptiness that was once in her heart, slowly filling back up again.

But Olive wouldn't do that to him, sensing that the boy was a little cautious of her, unsure of whether or not she was actually safe. And as much as that hurt inside, at the same time she understood where he was coming from, especially since Olive had given him plenty of reasons to be hesitant about her, what with her rather emotional and possibly frightening moment just before, which the woman felt rather embarrassed about now that she looked back on it, but then again that was a lot of emotions that she had been bottling away for ten years.

Eggs was carefully inspecting the photograph in his hands, holding it much like she always did, as if it were made of glass and could shatter in his fingers at any moment. The picture was taken during a cheese fair that Olive and her father had gone to, the small baby that Eggs once was going along with them. And so they were the focus of the photograph, just the three of them on the last family outing they would ever have.

The photograph was of the three of them, her father standing over the teenager Olive, a careful and caring hand on her shoulder as she held her brother in his arms. Their smiles then were genuine, a feeling that Olive had long since forgotten the sensation of, having spent the past ten years smiling when she only ever felt hollow inside. On this occasion however, as she looked back at the brother she had long thought dead, the smile that found its way across her expression was definitely real.

"Is this our father?" Eggs' voice was so small at that time, but still Olive had to fight off the need to comfort him, instead just nodding carefully in reply. The young boy eventually, and very slowly, moved to sit down next to the woman, his hands still carefully holding the last picture that was taken of their family before it was ripped apart. Thinking about it caused the ever familiar sting in the corner of her eyes, as before Olive could hold herself back she let her question slip.

"Do you know… wh-what happened to him, where he is?" Olive used present tense in the last part of her question as her hopes climbed higher than really should have been allowed. The woman wanted this to be like a dream come true where her father was also here, just waiting for her around the corner where they could all be a happy family again. But when Eggs finally replied, the hopes she allowed to soar to such highest, flew to close to the sun and burned up almost instantly.

"The Red Hats killed him,"

Her lip trembled, an action Olive didn't bother to hold back as her hands moved to cover her face as the woman felt herself break all over again. And yet, unlike ten years ago, she couldn't allow herself to just fall into grief, because as much as she wanted to think that this was a complete shock, it just wasn't. Olive had always had a feeling that Mr. Snatcher had something to do with the tearing a part of her family, in fact he had almost practically admitted to it just recently.

Olive had always had an inkling, something in the back of her mind that made her doubt the story that the Red Hats had told her and the rest of Cheesebridge. It was because of that lingering doubt and other factors that Olive couldn't allow herself to just fall apart all over again. The other factors being that she had already allowed herself to break to pieces earlier today, there was no need to do it again. And, she was also sitting next to her long lost brother, and really if anything he must be having a rather terrible and life changing day as well, so there was no need to dump this on top of it for him.

So, with every ounce of inner strength that she could manage to find at that time, Olive moved her hands away and breathed carefully until sobs no longer interrupted the process. There was strength in her, left behind from her father, and the woman would be damned if she wasn't going to use it. Besides, there was something else that needed to be asked now that Olive felt as though she had all the answers to her family's current state.

"What happens now?"

Eggs didn't allow for the conversation to fall into silence much like Olive would have in his place, instead going on to describe exactly what had happened for him that day, the woman finally getting to discover what had happened for him and Winifred in that factory before she had arrived. What she heard wasn't surprising, but that didn't mean it didn't make her blood boil to a certain degree, especially since it was a scenario that had placed her only brother and the child that had been under her care since she was an infant.

Well, at least it explained, in a small way anyway, exactly how and why Mr. Gristle had been flying out the window as she had seen before she entered the factory herself. But it wasn't Egg and Winifred's daring escape that her brother seemed all that interested in telling Olive about really, despite the woman's rebuttals in that being told exactly what happened, in order to make sure that her brother and Winifred had escaped completely unscathed.

"Before we managed to get out of the factory, the Red Hats opened up some kind of workshop that was underneath the floorboards, and all the Boxtrolls that were taken are under there-"

Olive didn't really think much on interrupting him, though if it had been anyone else the woman would have been immediately apologetic. But in any case Olive interrupted him as she talked about her own experience in the factory, decidedly leaving out the proposal that still made her stomach churn sometimes.

"I heard a voice under those floorboards when I was there, but it didn't sound like a Boxtroll," Eggs raised his eyebrow at this added information, before reaching a sudden memory of his own to build on top of that.

"I think… I saw someone with the Boxtrolls that were being held down there, but I didn't get a good look at them…" Olive nodded softly, delving mostly into her thoughts on the fact that some other poor soul had been dragged into this mess as well. Someone that along with the Boxtrolls needed to be saved from whatever it was that the Red Hats were planning to use them for.

"Winnie says that her father can help us fight against the Red Hats, to show everyone that they're not monsters," Olive couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this sudden proclamation that Eggs had made, unable to stop the cynicism that instantly flowed through her mind at the thought that Lord Portley-Rind would help anyone but himself and his white hat. Still, with the look of such hope that was now brightening her little brother's face, she didn't have it in her to shoot him down.

Eggs stood back on his feet, looking back down at the photograph in his hands before carefully holding it out for her to take it back, a question following quickly behind it. For a moment, Olive had to admit that she faltered, unsure on her answer for what it could mean for her and Egg's future should what he was proposing fail. But that was only for a few seconds of being unsure as she instantly then reminded herself that this was her brother, and she would do anything for her family.

"Will you help us?"

Olive carefully took the photo back, hiding away in the secret pocket of her skirts once more before smiling back at Eggs, her answer already certain to him before she even said. He knew this as he could almost read it immediately in her smile.

"Yes, I'll help you,"

Again Olive wanted nothing more than to hug her brother, but still knew that he wouldn't be comfortable with that, so she settled on the fact that he was here, and was smiling so gratefully at her. This moment was enough to her, it definitely felt that as a memory it would be enough for quite few years if she was ever found herself to be alone again. Nevertheless, Olive felt this almost blissful certainty that she wasn't going to really be alone again.

This moment was interrupted however, by the sudden arrival of Winifred, who entered in much like she was best known to do anything with her personality, which was quick with a side of bossy brashness that she never seemed to be able to tame for the sake of politeness. Olive didn't feel the energy to reprimand her for that and so instead just took a quick breath to ready herself for the child's demands.

"We could go to my daddy's party tonight to convince him Eggs!" Eggs looked somewhat apprehensive, yet still enthusiastic to take action. However a few seconds after she had spoken, Winifred seemed to actually take in the boy's full appearance for the first time since meeting him, and unintentionally wrinkled her nose in a fashion that one would when smelling something rather bad and not wanting to say so out loud.

"Well… Miss Olive we may need to make Eggs a suit to wear…" Before she could help herself, a large excited smile crossed Olive's face as her hand moved to the secret pockets of her skirts, pulling out a rather long thread and needle, ready for use. Winifred smiled back at her, Eggs meanwhile looking somewhat confused before becoming a slight bit mortified when the small red haired child turned back to him.

"Okay, first things first, time to lose the box,"

Oh this was going to go just swell, Olive could just already tell from her brother's mortified expression.

Please review, constructive criticism always welcome.